Moonbeams
by numina
Summary: Because life is like that, and you can't do anything about it. Alternate Ending, postseries, postCoS. Shounenai  EdRoy, AlWinry, slight Royai. Deathfic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Um. Test run for Hagaren if my writing style is well-recieved. Takes place after Shamballa; the two brothers do not cross back to the other side of the Gate and managed to remain in Amestris.

**Shounen-ai, read at your own risk. **Rated T for language and the shounen-ai thing.

**Disclaimer: **Hagane no Renkinjutsushi (c) Hiromu Arakawa.

**Summary: **Two years gone is a long, long time, and Ed finally realizes this not a moment too soon. Post CoS, Alternate Ending. Ed/Roy, Al/Winry, Royai. Oneshot (?).

**Note: **It's funny. But if you do have your filter on, you will most likely encounter little asterisks all over. I do believe you are all mature, intelligent readers, so please do turn the cute little filter off. Thank you and good day.

**moonbeams**

_have you ever danced with the devil in the moonlight?_

_-_ Joker, Batman -

**  
**

It had come, sooner rather than later, a fact that Ed had kind of expected.

Two years in London; two years in a place so much the same and yet so much more different. Two years spent living a life full of unfamiliar people wearing familiar faces. Two years spent away from family and friends and everything in between. Two long years that had felt like hell, but he knew he deserved it.

Ed tore his gaze from the window just in time to duck as Winry chucked a wrench at his head. Luckily, Central's windows were all bulletproof, so her wrench had no contest; it merely bounced off and managed to hit Ed on the head anyway. It landed on the carpet with a soft _thump_, and he followed suit, sitting cross-legged on the floor of his and Al's office, slumping with his back to the window. He pulled his hair out of its customary ponytail, since it was bending his neck at an awkward angle. Like he was hanging his head, or something. Which he certainly was _not_ doing.

He glanced uneasily in his mechanic's direction, and had the common sense to look meek. "Um," he grunted, trying to make sense of what she had just done.

"Edward _Elric_! If you don't stop sighing I'll throw my whole _toolkit_ at you!"

Ed sighed. He couldn't help it. He shut his eyes tight, wished desperately he had Greed's ability to deflect anything, and waited.

And waited.

And _waited_.

Instead, he heard the whisper of cloth against couch and the smell of oil and mint wander over to him, a pair of lithe arms hugging him and --

Wait.

Waitwait_wait_.

"Winry!" he gasped, eyes wide as the blonde girl embraced him tighter, listening as her breathing turned shallower. Oh crap, he made her cry, Al was going to _kill_ him, what do I do, _what do I do --_

"Stop panicking and just stay still, even for a moment," she muttered, voice sounding muffled by tears. Ed had visions of the world crashing down around him. It was not like Winry to do something like this.

Or was it?

He and Al never bothered to know. Maybe Al, but him? Too wrapped up in State Alchemy and the Stone. He needed to keep a one-track mind in order to redeem his sins. Needed to ignore everything and push on forward.

Ed blinked; it wasn't like him to wax poetic. He was the Fullmetal Alchemist, and he made sure to live up to his name by doing everything with an underlying tone of metal; brash, hard, showy, uncaring. Well then. That was his life. Save a town, destroy half of it in the process. He could almost hear the Colonel Bastard lecture him in that sarcastic tone of voice: "This is coming out of your paycheck, pipsqueak."

And then he'd rant and go on and _on_, making sure that the Flame won't be hearing clearly anytime soon. And then he'd go out and sulk at how he'd be treated once again as a child; dammit, he wasn't a child anymore! Roy himself said that the moment he joined the military, he'd left childhood behind! Overbearing Colonel said --

His breath hitched. He went off on a tangent there. Winry quivered as if to acknowledge his inner assertions.

"I'm sorry."

It was said in the same tone as when she had apologized for opening his watch. Sincere and heartfelt, soft and speaking of great pity at the same time. Ed hated it, especially when Winry, who was supposed to keep his head on his shoulders, said it.

World crashing around him again. Because when he saw his childhood friend like that, he somehow knew things were really more bad than it looks. Like with Izumi. Huh. Winry and Izumi. Both hugging him for something that cannot be undone.

Ed closed his eyes, trying to coax out a smile and miserably failing. "Don't be. It's not your fault."

"Stop trying to carry everything on your shoulders."

"I have an automail one," he pointed out, gratified at the humor he found at the situation. "I think I'll be able to carry it."

"Stupid," Winry giggled weakly, grip around him tightening, as if afraid he'd evaporate right then and there. "Don't dare try and change the subject."

"I'm not," he answered, willing to find the strength to lift his arms and embrace his mechanic back. But he couldn't. They felt empty. He felt empty. Ever since he came back and found out how everything had changed so much. Amestris turned out to be much more of an utopian Shamballa without him around.

Winry drew back and shook his shoulders. "Your eyes are glazing over. You're doing that entire self-pity thing again, Ed. Stop it right _now_."

Ed stared at her bemusedly. Smeared cheeks, matted eyelashes and all, she still managed to look intimidating. But back to the previous statement. After realizing what she had said, Ed frowned, and averted his gaze.

"Ed..."

He bit his lip, not really noticing as Winry started straightening up his jacket and smoothing creases out. He was too busy thinking of something to retort with, the way he usually did. Only this time he couldn't come up with something as brash or smart-alecky. Huh.

"Winry," he said in a long-suffering voice, "What are you doing?"

The blonde smiled beatifically, all traces of earlier sadness gone. "There's the Ed I know, as clueless as ever," she explained, running fingers at the back of his head and parting his hair down the middle, drawing the ends over his shoulders.

"Winry..." he repeated, definitely not pleased at this turn of events. "If Al sees you doing this, he's going to kill us both."

"Why am I going to kill you both?"

Ed had to bite down on his tongue to keep some very colorful words from coming out of his mouth. He had to take a few calming breaths before he could answer his younger brother coherently.

Al closed the door and walked over to them, hovering behind Winry with an unreadable expression on his face. "Hm?"

The blonde mechanic continued brushing through his hair with her fingers, and then clapped her hands gleefully, looking back up at Al with a cheerful smile. "There!"

His younger brother smiled right back, biting his lip as if to hold back laughter.

It was at times like these Ed wondered why he was surrounded by mentally unstable people. "What!" he growled, somewhat relieved that Al didn't find the previous scene out of place.

"Win," his younger brother clapped his girlfriend on the shoulder. "I knew it. When Brother gets all sad and pitiful like that...he really does look like a girl. _Especially_ when his hair's like that."

A second or five of silence. And then...

Ed felt fire spread over the bridge of his nose. "WHAT! Al, you traitor!" he yelled, drawing backwards and hitting his head rather painfully on the glass with a loud _thunk_. "Now look what you did!" he yelled again, rubbing the offended part of his head, contemplating ways on how to murder said little brother.

Nah, who was he kidding. After all the trouble they went through getting Al's body back, what was the point in destroying it again?

Winry and Al fell back, laughing and clutching at each other for support.

Ed growled once, before launching himself at the pair, gathering the both of them into his arms and tackling them to the ground. Really. He knew they had planned this, and he couldn't be more grateful.

"Girly Alchemist!" Winry spit out between breaths, tears gathering at the edge of her eyes. "Amestris will _worship_ you!"

"Girls will _flock_ and ask for your beauty secrets, Brother!"

"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON _MY_ SIDE!"

"He's _my_ boyfriend, alchemy nerd!"

"He's _my brother_, automail-_freak! _Blood's thicker than _water!_"

"Um, Brother, that's not the point..." Alphonse said rather meekly, and Ed noticed that he was partly wedging himself between him and Winry in a protective sort of manner. Ed had to smile as he sat up. So much like Al to be the peacekeeping one.

"Although, you really have to admit, with your hair down, you _do_ look like a girl..."

Screw peace.

"_AL!_" he screeched, preparing to launch himself at his younger brother.

"Excuse me," the door creaked wide open, and Ed grabbed at the nearest thing he could and threw it right at the door, being so much caught up in threatening Al.

A few minutes later, Lt. Danny Broche reemerged, nursing a rather large bruise on the forehead with one hand and holding a ceramic paperweight in the other. "Major Elric..."

Ed had the grace to try and look apologetic, but he knew that the expression on his face read hilarity more than anything else. "Um, sorry?"

Broche waved him off, but still winced quite audibly. "Miss Rockbell," he nodded in Winry's direction, touching fingers to his brow in the shadow of a salute, "Major and Major Elric -- "

"Ed and Al are much easier to say, Broche," Ed interrupted, gesturing with a hand.

"Okay, Ed, Al," for some reason, the lieutenant blushed. "We expect you at the place in an hour. Thank youandgood_bye_," he tacked on hurriedly, slamming the door shut as he did.

Al stared after him worriedly. "What did he think we were going to do?"

"Chuck a paperweight at him?" Winry supplied helpfully, lapsing into a giggling fit once again.

Ed glared at her. "I didn't mean it," he said defensively. "Only because you two were so annoying..." he paused, again, late in registering what had just been said. "Um. Seriously. He's not expecting us to go, right?"

Al raised his hand. "I can't, Brother. I'm not of legal age yet." At the puzzled look on Winry's face, he smiled a little haphazardly. "You know the stories about bachelor parties, don't you, Winry?"

The blonde mechanic's expression shifted from curious to disgusted. "I'm glad that I'm going to a bridal shower."

Ed stared at him. "You're expecting me to go there _alone_?"

They both stared at him back, silence falling as they contemplated the implications of what possibly might happen. Al frowned and shrugged. "I'm not expecting you to do anything."

Winry shook her head. "We can't force you, seeing that you'd really rather not."

Ed shifted his weight and unfurled his legs from under him, bringing his knees to his chin. "I'm not saying that. Hey," he looked up, and shifted positions again. "I thought I told you guys that I'm over that issue already."

The pair exchanged looks and frowned simultaneously. "You did."

Ed forced a grin. "So there!"

"Brother..." Al warned with an expression speaking volumes of caution and prudence.

"It's not like I'm going to do anything stupid," he waved them off dismissively, standing up and dusting himself off. Ed walked around his brother and his girlfriend, before pausing and laying a hand on the doorframe, hoping that the grin he had on didn't look as fake as it felt. "After all, how can I miss the last night that _that_ bastard's a bachelor?"

**x.x.x.x.x**

Ed sorely wished that he had gone back to the dorms with Al and Winry. Who gave a damn about the Colonel's last free night, anyway?

His head spun painfully, and he dropped his head into his arms, trying to will the throbbing to just. Go. Away.

He eyed the shotglass next to him disdainfully, before mentally steeling himself, picking it up, and downing the clear liquid within in one breath.

Huh. So this was the reason why Roy liked to drink after stressful hours. Not that he's been stalking him, of course, but Ed's caught the Colonel and Hughes going out for a drink after work. No biggie. Drinking made your senses all fuzzy and warm. Like all the kittens Al brought back home. Huh. Random.

The bartender moved over, holding a cleaning rag in one hand. Ed tapped the shotglass with an automail finger (his gloves had been long discarded in favor of avoiding un-alchemizable stains), and the toothy old man -- who bore an uncanny resemblance to a taller Gluttony -- poured him another shot.

Amestris' mead was something akin to the vodka he had learned to drink back in London. Not as strong, but it still burnt going down, leaving a pleasant heat somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Ironically, it was London's Hughes who took him out drinking for the very first time, on the eve of his birthday.

_Way to go, Maes. Cheers!_ he toasted both mentally, raising his glass at his reflection in the wine cabinets, before taking a deep breath and downing it again. Luckily, he was the only one currently sitting at the bar, and aside from the bartender, no one was there to see him get drunk. About to get drunk. Same difference.

"Major Elric, sir..." that was the bartender's voice, sounding very much like he had been speaking with a ball of cotton in his mouth. Or was it him? Ed shook his head and it cleared very slightly.

"Huh?" He mumbled intelligently, eyes drooping shut.

"Are you sure you're old enough to...well...you know..."

Ed glared at him, picking up on what the old man was trying to say. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING A RUNT THAT'S SO SHORT THAT HE COULD BE MISTAKEN FOR A THREE-YEAR-OLD!?"

The bartender winced. "I said nothing of that sort, Major..."

"Well, shut up if you have nothing else to say and pour me another one," he muttered, holding out the shotglass, tapping it on the cool marble of the bartop.

"Major, this is your nineteenth shot..."

"_Now_," he snarled, glaring at the old man with enough force to induce a heart attack. Huh. _If the old man died_, he mused_, I'll just go and do human transmutation again. Then get sent to the other side of the Gate. And then wash, rinse and repeat. Duh._

He watched the clear liquid flow from the bottle to the shotglass, filling it in a very short time. Ed set down the small container and stared at it for a while. Innocently sparkling in the lights of this high-end bar (since, he quotes, "The Flame Alchemist only deserves the _very_ best!"), the shotglass reflected everything happening inside the room.

The small, warmly-illuminated room was filled with some of the Colonel's closest male friends, all having a very good time, judging from the volume of laughter in the air. Most of them had discarded their blue jacket uniforms, leaving only dress shirts and black turtlenecks.

Some Generals were milling around, looking quite dignified with their wineglasses. Majority, if not all, were edging away discreetly from one very reminiscent Major Armstrong, pink sparkles dancing in the lamplight. The hulking Major had cornered Lt. Broche in one corner, who looked as if he was desperately trying to stop from bursting into tears.

Falman was busy explaining something to a fellow officer in a corner, and Havoc was listening in, nodding absently as smoke curled up all over them. Breda was laughing over something Fuery was holding in his hands, and both were pointing discreetly at their superior. Upon closer inspection, e.g, Ed squinted his eyes, it was found out to be a collar and a leash, and no doubt that he two were joking about the one more 'dog' that was going to be in Hawkeye's posession tomorrow.

And then there was the Flame himself, sauntering over to them, a smirk on his face as he explained to Fuery what _exactly_ he would like to do with the leash. Of course, judging from the loud gagging sounds the bespectacled Sergeant made, it was not exactly a good thing.

Ed made a derisive noise and swallowed the shot once more. "Hey, pops, another one."

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "Just _what_ are you trying to do, Edward?" he asked, throwing all of formality out the window. Heck, Ed was too distracted to care, anyway.

"What does it look like?" he rolled his eyes, raising his glass and toasting him. "Cheerio."

He downed the shot and asked wordlessly for another one; one request with which the bartender grudgingly complied. Ed shrugged his shoulders, and toyed with his ponytail, drawing it over his shoulderboards and twirling it around his finger.

"Ed..."

Was it just him, or did the bartender sound eerily like Winry earlier?

"Listen, pops," Ed waved a hand around. "I'm eighteen, and I can damn do whatever the hell I want, so whatever I do is none of your goddamn business."

Truthfully enough, Ed knew that if he stared to tell the bartender why exactly he was inducing a very drunken state of mind, he'll end up spilling his guts to everyone, which includes, but is not limited to, his obsession with the Flame Alchemist.

Like, _psssh_. No way in hell was that going to get out.

He drank the shot in one breath once again, and tapped the shotglass on the marble. "Ah. Don't look at me like that. I've drank much more than this in one sitting."

The bartender cocked his head. "But you're just a _kid._"

"Pops, were you listening? I'm _eight--_"

"I know," the old man interrupted hurriedly. "Not in that sense, Major."

Ed's eyes widened as he understood what he had been trying to say. He frowned as he felt something twist in the general region of his heart. "Don't give me any of that I-don't-have-a-childhood shit, pops. 'Cause I know, and I don't need to be reminded of that."

The bartender drew back, sad-faced. Was that pity? Ed didn't know. Too blurry. "Never had a childhood. I didn't say that," he said gently. "I'm just saying that you shouldn't just stand by and let it be that way."

"Know what?" he asked, reaching over and picking up the bottle himself, and pouring himself another shot. "I can't do that. I don't know how to friggin' do that. Childhood's gone, tween, teen years gone, pops. Can't bring it back."

Ed sighed, and fought the urge to bang his head against the countertop. He settled for resting the side of his head instead, staring through the clear mead.

Two years had passed since he had crossed the Gate. A month, two months ago, he had come back, counting on Alfons on the other side of the Gate to shut it by the array and instructions that he had left behind. (Huh. How was Alfons doing anyway? Ed hoped that he was alright, since the Gate had closed of what appeared to be its own accord. He wondered what kind of sacrifice the double doors took once again.)

He had been reunited with everyone, before taking off to end a war that he and Al had unknowingly made possible. Of course, Ed took the blame upon himself. After all, who started everything in the first place? He could place the blame on Hohenheim, but that would be stupid. It was _him_ who suggested they bring back their mother in the first place. So it was only logical and quite scientific that he, Edward, the older Elric, take the blame. Well, the Gate seemed to think he deserved it, since he still had his automail arm and leg.

So there he was. Smack dab in the middle of a happy reunion, everyone overjoyed to see their Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People (pssh. Let them see Hero of the People dead drunk.), back safe and in one piece. He, Ed, was equally happy to see everyone back, not knowing how he had been so fond of them until he lost them completely.

He had been so fond of them.

So much.

Ed had only realized how much he had missed his Bastard Colonel when he caught a glimpse of the Flame's counterpart in the other world. He could only stop and stare (and almost get run over by a car in the process; Alfons had jerked him out of the car's path and out of his reverie, bless him) and get his heart clenched by how _much_ he looked like Roy.

And then he realized that the only regret he had about crossing the Gate was that he was never going to be with the people he loved the most. Al and Roy.

Roy.

Since when did he call the bastard by the first name?

Oh.

Ed swirled the mead around his shotglass, musing dejectedly. Since _never_. Ever. The Flame Alchemist. He was Ed's superior. And yeah, they were both male. The Colonel, legendary skirt-chaser of Central, would probably (a) laugh his ass off at the mere mention of Ed's 'attraction'. or (b) run the hell away, or worse, (c) get him transferred. And if in the very remote case that Roy would've like him back...If the military didn't like fraternization, then it hated these 'unique' cases.

Well, screw military now. Parliament was much more lax and open than the military junta Amestris once was. And although Roy Mustang would never become Fuhrer, he now had an ever bigger matter on his hands. A lifelong commitment.

A marriage proposal to Riza Hawkeye.

Well, now, this was a god-_damned_ situation they were in. If Ed had not been an atheist, he would've believed somebody up there _really_ hated him by making the Fullmetal Alchemist the _best man_. The one who was 'giving Riza away'. Yesiree. _Maes, you incomparable jerk. You were the one who's supposed to be in my place, _Ed thundered mentally, giving himself a headsplitting headache in the process.

He chuckled, and quickly thought better of it, feeling the throbbing that it was accompanied by. God, he really needed to lay off the drinks. But hey. He needed something to warm the coldness that no jacket, nor any article of clothing, can ease.

"Well, well, well, what have we got here?"

Well, speak of the devil. If the devil was as impossibly handsome as this, that is.

Ed blinked. He did _not_ just think of that.

Growling deep in his throat, he opened one eye to glare blearily at Roy Mustang, who was holding a wineglass in one gloved hand. He tried to mutter something that sounded remotely like "Shove off, bastard Colonel," but it came out as more of a jumble of words slurred together. Huh. He wasn't _that_ drunk, was he?

Roy's onyx eyes widened for a moment, and for that single frame of time he seemed geniunely concerned. Well, it was a single frame of time, so once couldn't expect it to last forever; a split second later that mask of smirky conceitedness had slid back.

Ed lifted his head and turned to face the other side, away from Roy, pillowing his cheek on the cold marble.

"Fullmetal. What are you doing to yourself?"

"I'm drinking myself silly," he replied truthfully, the cold of the marble managing to bring at least _something_ of his senses back. "What's it to you?" he asked, fighting to keep down the bubble of hope rising up in his chest. Pathetic. Even the tiniest bit of concern worked him so much up now.

Roy sounded strangled. "Well...we wouldn't want you to throw up tomorrow, right?"

And just like that, the bubble of hope burst and splattered all over what remained of his heart. Of course. It was his wedding tomorrow, after all. Wouldn't want an irresponsible Alchemist throwing up all over the place and ruining everything, right?

Ed sighed hoarsely. "Yeah, yeah, bastard. I'll behave."

"You better make sure you will, pipsqueak."

It wasn't worth the effort, he decided. Head was hurting way too much right now. Heart was past the point of no return. Ha. No alchemy can repair a broken heart, that he knew as much. And now with the object of his affection behind him, so close yet so far, with no way of telling him how he felt without ruining Roy and Riza's dream...

He therefore concluded that this must be part of the price he had to pay to pass through the Gate. That Gate sure knew how to make his life miserable.

Ed smiled wryly, finally accepting what he knew was his punishment. "Of course, Flame."

He could feel the older alchemist stiffen behind him, and out of the corner of his eye he could see the others in the room stare curiously at them. It was the first and only time he had referred to Roy, aloud, as anything other than Colonel Bastard. Or Colonel. Whatever.

He wrapped his arms around his head, staring into the blue fabric of his uniform, trying to will the image of a happily ever after out of his mind. He didn't deserve it. Never did.

Edward closed his eyes and silently wept.

**x.x.x.x.x**

He snapped his eyes open and sat straight up, bewildered.

Huh? Where the -- He blinked. Where the hell was he?

Ed swung his legs over the side of the bed and immediately regretted doing so; his head throbbed quite painfully. A good dose of industrial-strength painkillers would be nice right now.

Wait.

Bed.

What?

The last thing he remembered was crying at the bar, shotglass at hand. He paused, and surveyed the room he was currently in. The lights were off and the window was open, a breeze coming in with a faint smell of the sea.

Ed took a sharp breath, horrified as a thought came to him: what if somebody had taken advantage of him while he had been drunk? He quickly did a body check: barefoot. Boxers and pants were still on, yes. Jacket was off, and there it was, hanging over a chair, leaving his black turtleneck. Besides, the last person with him was Roy, and he was more than willing to...

He grabbed the nearest pillow and muffled a giddy laugh. Alcohol was still coursing through his blood, warm and heady.

But now that he had slept for at least what had felt like a solid hour or two, some of his bearings had come back. Which lead him to the fact that he was in an unknown room for an unknown reason for an unspecified period of time. Oh well. If he had been kidnapped, they'd know how it was to mess with the Fullmetal Alchemist.

Also best man at the Mustang-Hawkeye wedding.

Ed groaned.

He padded over to the massive window and peered over. Beyond was a majestic view of Amestris' large Central bay, and over it a full moon was shining. He calculated that it was a three-storey drop to the cold pavement below. Easily solved.

He was halfway through clapping his hands when the door to the room opened, and a silhouetted figure could be made out. Sound of merriment still echoed from below.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you come."

"Then why didn't you?" Ed retorted, turning back into the window. "You've always been a pompous idiot. Excuse me, Colonel, but I do believe that it isn't in my best interest to join you in the last day of your bachelorhood."

_Not now, not ever,_ he added silently with as much bitterness as he could.

Roy's voice echoed through the room as he shut the door, stepping inside. "Why did you come then? I sent you an invitation, not an order."

"Free drinks," Ed answered simply, giving up on the jump-off-the-windowsill method and leaning on the sill instead. Much more productive. The frigid night air whipped around his bangs.

The older alchemist walked over to the bed he had been lying in earlier and sat down, letting out what could be considered as a sigh. "You drank two whole bottles of 80 proof mead, Fullmetal. Even the older Generals know better than to drink that much in one sitting. I had to carry you up here, and you must weigh a metric ton."

Ed hoped the shadows hid the most of his blush. "Don't give a damn about what I do, bastard. I'm of legal age, if you haven't noticed; I turned eighteen on the other side of the Gate. You could've just left me there."

"And see you get wasted? I think not. I'm not saying that you shouldn't drink, but..." Roy paused, running a hand through his hair. "Ever heard of the phrase 'Drink Moderately'?"

Ed snorted. "Moderately? I don't do moderate, sorry."

The bedsprings creaked, and Ed glanced over his shoulder in time to see the Colonel lie down fully on the bed, arms behind his head and legs crossed.

He turned back to the window, trying to chase the lewd thoughts out of his head. One was particularly stubborn. _What I wouldn't give to be able to just lie down next to him..._

"I've asked this once, and I'm not going to ask it again," Roy's voice broke through his mental struggle, and he was inwardly grateful that he had at least retained some semblance of logic. "Why are you doing this?"

"Hark who's talking," he rolled his eyes, bitter once more. "You should know."

In the silence that followed he could almost hear the gears in the Flame Alchemist's head grind together. He was thinking, and most probably slightly hurt in reference to the drinking after Maes' death.

"You're normally not this hostile, Fullmetal," Roy said calmly, ever the diplomat. Ed was torn between punching and kissing him. Or maybe a combination of both.

"How do you know, Colonel?" he asked, sparing a glance that he knew the older alchemist won't see, seeing that the headboard was against the windowsill. "It's been a long time since I've worked under you. I've changed."

"You're still the bean that refuses to drink milk."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A BEAN SO SMALL THAT HE'D GET LOST IN A HANDFUL OF SAND!"

"See? Whoa, easy there."

Ed huffed, blood pumping through his temples. He put up his automail hand to cool the arteries down, and maybe alleviate his headache. "I've _changed_, Colonel," he whined childishly, not knowing how to answer. The man knew how to twist his answers around in a loop. "I may look the same, sound the same, even _measure_ the same, but I've changed. I grew up more than you'll ever know."

Silence, in which Ed contemplated jumping down again. Anything to escape this stupid, pointless, heartbreaking conversation. Light banter exchanged between fellow officers. Words between one-sided love. Crushing the broken pieces of a shattered heart. Those kind of things.

Talking as if there's nothing wrong.

"Why did you drink so much?"

Huh. Colonel Random strikes again.

Ed shrugged, unseen. "Because I want to forget. That's why everybody does it, right?"

"Listen, Fullmetal, if this is about the Shamballa spiel -- "

"It's not that," he cut in, wrapping his arms around himself as he gazed over at the bay. "Shamballa is over."

The bedsprings creaked again, and Ed knew he had the Flame intrigued. Sure enough, there was the soft sound of boots hitting wood, and Roy was sitting on the edge of the bed. "I've taken care of you and your brother for years, now. You know that I can help, whatever this is that's bothering you."

Ed choked on air. "Uh, no."

"Why not?"

Inspite of himself, he smiled and half-closed his eyes. "Nah. You're getting way too old to solve the problems of unruly kids. Leave 'em to solve it themselves, old man."

"I'm not old, pipsqueak."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A PIPSQUEAK THAT'S SO SMALL HE'S SMALLER THAN MOST GREAT-GRANDCHILDREN!"

"Besides..." If that wasn't an audible smirk, then Ed didn't know what it was, "I don't think that somebody who can actually rant like that could have any problems in dealing with their own lives."

"Stop talking in circles, bastard."

"I'm saying that I'm willing to help, Fullmetal. Come on. I can't have a best man who's a mess."

Ed 'hmphed'. "Why the hell am I best man, anyway?"

"Obviously."

He cringed; Maes was still a touchy subject for the Colonel. "I mean, I've been gone for the two years when you were waiting for somebody else. I've only just come back. It would only be logical for you to choose Havoc, or even Armstrong. Or somebody else."

"Not everything is logic," Roy's voice answered distantly. "Love is not logic."

Ed agreed wholeheartedly. "Definitely," he answered, before he could stop himself.

There was that smirk again, Ed knew the older alchemist was wearing it. "Oh. So. Love troubles, eh, Fullmetal?"

Why did it _always_ have to end up in awkward situations like this? Somebody up there had a serious grudge on him. Ed tried to keep his cool and smiled at nothing in particular instead. " You'd really rather not know, Colonel."

"_Really_. I think the little bean's growing -- "

"_Roy!!! Boy-o! GET BACK DOWN HERE!_"

Both of them winced simultaneously, staring at the closed door. That was obviously more of a drunken Havoc than anything else. Why couldn't he stick to only one vice and let the rest of the world deal with the others?

Ed, for the third time, only managed to process what had been just said a split second after; he turned back to the window. "Well..." Miraculously, he sounded nonchalant. Thank goodness for diplomacy training under the bastard. "You heard them. It's your last day as a free man, anyway."

Roy made a choking noise, as if he had only realized it just now. "Uh, yeah." Pregnant silence hung between the two of them, as if the Flame had something else to say but had thought better of it.

Ed froze as a hand suddenly clapped itself onto his shoulder and gave a warm squeeze. "Wha -- "

"Are you going to be all right, Ed?"

His throat ran dry, and he swung his head sideways and up, into the shadowed face of the Flame Alchemist, onyx eyes glinting in the darkness in an unfathomable expression.

He closed his eyes and savored this moment; the only moment he'll have for a lifetime where it was only him and Roy, Fullmetal and Flame, before everything in his life crashed down at ten o' clock tomorrow morning.

Ed wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around the man and cling to the broad shoulders and kiss those pale lips; but current circumstances saw to that particular issue. He was getting married. At least he had a month's notice; a month to brood, a month to convince himself that everything was going to be all right.

And that's why he swallowed painfully and brushed the hand off, the way the Fullmetal Alchemist always did. He flashed one of the Fullmetal grins and cocked his head to on side. "I'm always all right, Colonel Bastard."

Roy made a surprised noise and let his hand fall back.

Ed immediately missed the warmth of his touch, but steeled himself and forced on another grin. "Now shoo," he said evenly, flicking his flesh hand in a shooing motion towards the door. "Enjoy the night."

Once again, it looked suspiciously like Roy had something else to say, so Ed headed him off. "I'm not going back down there."

The older man nodded in understanding, and smiled rather painfully. "Lucky you, Fullmetal chibi. You have an excuse to stay up here..."

Roy almost looked wistful.

But Roy was Roy, Ed shook his head mentally, and Roy did not just look wistful. It didn't suit his facade.

Ed gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder and refused his body's struggle to let it remain in contact. "Back to chibi, eh? Some things never change. Even if you get married, you'll always be the same bastard to me."

They both froze.

_Oh shit_, Ed panicked inwardly. _Wrong thing to say. _If that wasn't a confession, then Ed didn't know what it was. He hoped Roy was a bit too inebriated to notice the underlying affectionate tone.

Roy only stepped backwards and laughed. "And you'll always be the same pipsqueak to me."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A PIPSQUEAK THAT'S SO SMALL HE'S NEVER GOING TO GROW UP LARGER THAN AN ANT?"

Roy laughed harder, walking back towards the door and opening it, sounds echoing from below. "I love it when you do that."

"_Damn it, _Mustang!"

The door closed, muffling the shouts and music, leaving Ed to his thoughts.

And then his mind caught up to him once again. Delayed reaction. He felt all the blood rush into his face as he remembered the older alchemist's last statement.

He fell to his knees and pillowed his arms and head on the windowsill, laughing and crying at the same time. Dammit. Roy made him cry again.

The door creaked open once more, and Ed wondered how many heart attacks he can suffer in one night.

"Fullmetal, I left my gloves..." he trailed off, and the sliver of yellow light on the wood widened. "You okay?"

"How many times are you going to ask me that?" Ed said into the darkness that was his arms. "Duh, Colonel. I drank two bottles of mead. My head hurts really bad." Well, that wasn't entirely untrue. His head hurt like hell itself. But somewhere in his chest, it hurt even more.

Roy snorted, and Ed heard him rummaging around the bed and pulling on his gloves. "Hangover merely two hours after drinking? A new record."

"Shut up, Flame Alchemist."

Chuckling, footsteps padded across the floor once more, and Ed watched out of a gap between his fingers as the sliver of light narrowed...

"Roy."

The older alchemist stopped in his tracks, and Ed mentally cursed himself to oblivion. His mouth had ran away with his common sense and decided to live far, far away. Dammit.

"Hm?" The gloved hand stopped at the door.

Ed swallowed and looked back over the windowsill, watching as the moon's reflection danced over the day, watching as moonbeam after moonbeam chased each other and shone off his own tearstained cheeks. Huh. He was glad Roy didn't see him in this state.

_Stay with me. Please_.

At least, that was what Ed would like to have said, but he was also the _Fullmetal Alchemist_. Can't really happen, never likely to happen. Besides. He didn't deserve somebody who had broken no taboos. He, on the other hand, was a metaphorical exile. He was only the childish alchemist with no childhood that everybody knew. That and nothing more.

Ed didn't turn back.

"Goodbye." He said faintly, staring out into the dancing sea.

The door shut softly closed, and Ed's heart followed suit.

**x.x.x.x.x**

Um. Drop me a review?

/If you're one of my KH readers, check my profile for updates. Thanks and much love./


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Dammit. The plotbunny nagged at me.

**Disclaimer: **Hagane no Renkinjutsushi (c) Hiromu Arakawa.

**Notes: Spoliers for manga and anime alike. **This takes Riza's family history from the manga.

Sorry if I kind of um, improvised on the wedding rites?

Remember, if anybody's OOC, try to put yourselves in their shoes and you'll see you'd probably act the same way.

**moonbeams II**

_A wedding? I love weddings. Drinks all around._

-Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Carribean

It was beautiful, Ed had to admit. Not in beautiful in a dazzling, overpowering sense, but in a tragically understated way. Like hearing a swan's song. Lovely when you first hear it, at least, until you realize the swan dies soon after.

He swallowed painfully, and continued to fidget with the white piping of his military uniform. Only an occasion so _important_ as Roy's wedding would Ed deem a worthy thing to suffer wearing the blue outfit. Itchy, tacky, stiff, smells like bleach, and did he mention itchy?

Dammit. Damn it all.

Ed winced inwardly. No, he didn't mean that. As long as the Flame was happy...

"Brother?" Al's voice cut like a knife through his thoughts. "Um, the bridal limousine is coming around the corner."

He looked back so fast he was afraid he'd get whiplash; his brother had gotten his attention right in the nick of time. A snow-white limousine _was _coming into view, and the bridal entourage had started fidgeting excitedly. Paired by choice (or by force, didn't really matter), the entourage consisted mostly of military personnel and whatnot, and some faces Ed couldn't place. He supposed they were Hawkeye's friends. Supposed. The sharpshooter no longer had a family -- her father had died the year before she entered military school.

And entrusted her to Roy; can't forget that. Heard it through the military grapevine (that had branched off quite admirably during the last two years he had been gone) one too many times for his liking. Was it true? Ed didn't care. Or, at least, he that's what he told himself.

Off on still _another_ tangent.

He shook his head wildly, inwardly thankful that the people were too much preoccupied with Hawkeye's arrival to notice his momentary lapse of sanity. He made his way down the cathedral steps, shouldered his way past the press, and jogged right up to the door, forcing a smile on his face and opening it.

He truly smiled right after.

Hawkeye looked positively _radiant_. Light gold hair had been swept up into an elegant bun; and a simple pearl choker sparkled at her throat. A simple white sheath dress. Red rose bouquet. Traditional wedding attire and all that. Knowing Hawkeye, however, there's probably a gun tucked into her garter.

"...she's beautiful..." Somebody in the crowd muttered, and Ed agreed wholeheartedly. Now, if only that distraught expression on her face would change...

What?

Auburn eyes looked up (or in this case, on the same level) beseechingly at him, and the Lieutenant looked disturbingly close to tears. Camera flashes went off all around them like lightning bolts, but a glare from Ed was enough to make them stop. Or look like they were trying to stop, anyway.

"Riza? What -- "

"Edward," she started, drawing her train out of the limousine and slamming the door closed, "M-my tiara..." she said breathlessly, "We couldn't find it."

Scheska got out of the front seat of the limo and motioned for it to drive off. Brows drawn together and glasses flashing, she looked truly pissed. Which Ed had never seen her be before. "It's missing from the quartermaster's safe. Apparently, somebody stole it last night."

Ed shot another glare at a reporter who was in the act of whipping out a notebook and pen. "You could've borrowed another --- "

"We were going to be late!" Hawkeye interjected, wringing her hands and almost dismantling her bouquet.

Ed raised an eyebrow bemusedly; military punctuality was something you can never take out of Hawkeye. "The bride is never late, Riza. The crowd is usually early."

She sniffed, and Ed thought for a fleeting moment that she was going to pull out her gun. "Ed -- "

"No worries," he said gently, placing a gloved hand over her white-clad ones and stopping her fingers from mutilating the roses silly.

Hawkeye stared at him, and Ed could feel the crowd stop and do the same. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickle in agitation, and he shifted uncomfortably. He licked suddenly-dry lips, took off his right glove, and held it between his teeth, for the lack of anything else to do with it.

He clapped in a very familiar way, one that he had missed doing. Blue alchemic energy crackled as he touched his flesh fingers to his right automail arm, and he wondered for a fleeting moment how this would look in the papers tomorrow. It _would_ be enough to dispel any suspicion that he just did _not_ like Roy getting married...

The latest model of Rockbell automail had been built from parts made of a special alloy: iron, copper, a bit of titanium, aluminum, and most importantly, silver. Which, as far as he could rememeber, was of special value both here and in Germany.

Ed concentrated on rearranging the atoms into another structure, and he watched impassively as the blue light faded away, leaving a perfect, intricately-wrought tiara in his gloved hand.

Wow. Shiny.

He bit his lip to keep from laughing and making a total fool of himself.

"Um," he started, quite worried by the stunned look on Hawkeye's face. Ed held out the tiara and was momentarily blinded by the number of camera flashes that had went off. He blinked from the spots from his eyes before trying to speak again. "Here. Sorry, it's the best I can do on short notice."

Auburn eyes travelled from the tiara, to his face, and repeated several times more in quick succession. "Edward -- "

"What? Oh, " he tugged his glove on once more, and clapped his hands once again, touching his fingers to the white piping of his jacket this time. Hah; the uniform was of some use, at least.

_Why did brides have to wear such fiddly things?_ he thought, frowning at the tiara and mentally blaming it for being so complicated. Blue light faded away again, and the threads from his uniform had spun themselves into a sheer, gossamer-like fabric. "Sorry again. Forgot the veil."

With one smooth motion he placed the tiara on the top of her head, noting pleasantly that he no longer had to reach up so much to do so.

"..."

Ed growled at a nearby photographer, and continued on grumbling as he drew her veil down her face. "Dammit. Stop taking pictures, morons."

"Ed," Hawkeye still had that stunned look on her face, "Your automail..."

He winced; he could practically feel Winry's wrench colliding with the side of his head. "Ah, don't worry about it. I'll live. Now, Lieutenant, I told you, no worries." He turned around, and controlled the urge to alchemize every camera he could see. "Well, don't just stand there! We don't have all day, _move_!"

Most of the entourage had no qualms about getting in an orderly file, in pairs. The rest was quickly put back into line with a fierce glare. Funny what a reputation can do. Well, it _was_ true; they didn't have all day. Or, more like, Ed didn't want it to last the whole day. He didn't think he could stand his heart breaking over and over again for a whole _day_.

"Thank you..." Hawkeye trailed off, cheeks coloring in a way he had never seen the officer do so.

Ed turned away and lost himself in mentally counting the pairs in the entourage. Gracia was happily watcing Alicia practicing throwing flowers in the air. Breda with one of the desk secretaries. Falman with Shiezka. Fury with the military receptionist who had an eerie resemblance to Paninya. Some other dignitaries. Ling Yao with Ran Fan, looking splendid in their flowing robes (let's just ignore the fact that the ebony-haired heir to the throne was enthusiastically showering him with flying kisses; it's better that way). Some other generals and whatnot. The Armstrongs; Armstrong Sr. and wife, Major Armstrong -- sparkling inconspiciously in the sun -- and Major General Olivia Armstrong, and the youngest, Katherine, arm held graciously by one Jean Havoc, looking slightly out of place without the customary cigarette tucked in his mouth.

Ed blinked. If he didn't know better, he's say that Havoc looked quite unhappy.

But when one was with the Armstrongs...he smiled complacently. You can't exactly be in the bext of moods.

And there, right in the very back, was Al and Winry; his younger brother looking resigned in a military uniform similar to his own, Winry in a flattering white sheath with a blue shawl. Al caught his eye, and Ed had to turn away in order to prevent an emotional overflow.

From inside the cathedral, strains of the wedding march could be heard, notes floating out into the air and seemingly mocking him. Cloth whispered on the carpet as the people started going inside, pair by pair, step by step. He could discern people craning their necks backwards to see the bride. Flashes went off here and there.

He took a deep breath, locking down his emotions and shifting gears into 'best-man' mode. Even though he never really wanted to, even though right now he was cursing Maes for dying so soon and leaving him to do this thing by himself, even though the sound of his heart shattering anew seemed loud in his ears.

Roy was happy. Hawkeye was happy. Everyone was happy, and all was right in the world.

For he was Edward Elric, and this world wasn't his. Nor was the other. He belonged neither in Germany nor in Amestris. The Fullmetal Alchemist didn't deserve a home for his sins; his automail arm and leg was proof of that.

_Dammit_, he chuckled inwardly, _if Winry heard me like this..._

Beside him, Hawkeye shifted uneasily on her feet, and nervously adjusted her veil.

"Well," he said brightly, noting the fact that people were getting up to wonder where the bride was. Ed offered a miraculously steady arm to the bride. "Let's go, shall we? You can't keep Roy waiting."

She made a little choking noise, and Ed kicked himself mentally for referring to his commanding officer by first name.

"Yes," she affirmed in a small, but clear voice, placing a shaking hand on his proferred arm.

And with that, at ten o'clock on a beautiful Sunday, Ed felt his life crash down around him.

---

Never had ten metres seemed so long.

And never had Ed taken so many camera flashes in the face before.

It took all of his self-control not to clap his hands together and give the photographers a rather violent piece of his mind. He had to marvel at how Hawkeye kept her cool in situations like this. But then again, given the way that her hand on his arm was shaking...

It was rather funny to see the crowd's heads turn in synchronized fashion as they followed his and Hawkeye's path down the middle of the cathedral. He avoided his brother's eye, however, when he finally came up at the altar, he barely managed to choke down a dry sob.

Dammit, why did Roy have to look so _handsome_?

From the polished shoes, to the impeccably-pressed dress uniform, to the glittering medals and pins on his upper left chest, to the smoldering coals of his eyes (eye. Can't forget the eyepatch.), Roy Mustang very much looked like the epitome of military perfection.

Except the hair.

Ed inwardly nodded to himself. He had never liked Roy with his hair slicked back like _that_. Reminded him too much of Maes' funeral. Besides, having his hair down was the way he was accustomed to seeing. And liked to remember.

"Dearly beloved," the minister, a rather wizened man with a crown of snow-white hair, started, "We are gathered here today, to witness the union of these --- "

Hawkeye shifted her weight again, and Ed had come to take this as a sign of nerves; he couldn't tell by anything else. Oh yeah. The vice grip on his arm told him nicely that the lieutenant was very _very_ nervous about the whole affair. Hm. Ed wondered if he'd ever feel that way at his own wedding. Then again, Ed wasn't so sure that he _was_ going to have a wedding.

" -- two souls for as long as they live, and beyond..."

Ed had to force back a snort. Well _technically_ he had already died once, and judging from the bleakness of the other side--

"Who gives away this woman, to this man?"

There was a ten-second pause before he realized what he was supposed to do. "Um," he managed to barely save himself, "I, Edward Elric, give away Riza Hawkeye."

Hawkeye practically quivered.

Ed shrugged minutely and gently guided the blonde officer forward, where Roy had already stepped down and looked rather expectant.

"Okay, bastard," he whispered rather good-naturedly, as he held out his arm and Hawkeye took Roy's outstretched hand, "Here you go; you hurt her and I _will_ hurt you."

Onyx eyes flashed with something unreadable and then crinkled amusedly, and there was that customary smirk again. Roy looked away, stifling a chuckle, before passing by him and standing before the minister.

Ed sighed and took his place right in the front pew, next to Al. Well, that seemed to seal his fate. The final strains of the wedding march died down, and so did the noise level with it. People stopped fidgeting and mercifully, the press stopped taking photographs.

"Brother..." Al whispered beside him. "You do remember what else you have to do, right?"

Ed peered out of the corner of his eye, stomach turning in remembrance of the wedding rehearsals he had to suffer through for the past few weeks. Of course he'd remember. "Of course. Drape some kind of rope over 'em while the Parliament watches from their high and mighty sea--"

"It's called the wedding _cord_, brother, and -- oh, oh, that's your cue..."

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as Winry stood up from the other side of the aisle, a chain of coins held in her hands, symbolizing material happiness. The golden braided cord (which, funnily enough, looked exactly like the braid on the regulation uniform) in his own symbolized that the bride and groom should stand together forever.

Forever is...a very long time.

See, this was exactly why Ed _hated_ being best man.

Winry was the maid of honor, dammit. Why wasn't Al the best man? Weren't those two positions supposed to be paired together, or something?

The expression on his mechanic's face could've been carved in stone, her eyes a flashing pair of sapphires. Winry was very uptight about this whole affair. For what reason, Ed will find out later, even if it took him a dozen painful bruises from flying wrenches.

He walked up front, and waited at the side, waited for them to say their vows first.

Vows.

Ed looked down and started a very intense staring match with the marble floor.

"Do you," the minister coughed a little, "Riza Hawkeye, take Roy Mustang, as your husband, bound to him in eternal matrimony?"

Hawkeye's voice sounded shaky, but to anyone else with an untrained eye, it was covered very well by the loudness of her words. "I do."

Ed bit his lip. From the corner of his eye he could see Al's blurry reflection on the marble tile; grey eyes looked quite apprehensive, and gloved hands were fighting the urge to curl into fists. Wait. Everyone in the first pew was looking quite nervous...he snapped his head up and gazed around curiously. Maybe this was everyone's first time at a wedding?

"Do you, Roy Mustang," Ed quickly brought down his head and tried his best to look solemn -- a very easy feat, if you counted how he felt right now; a frown was close enough to expressionless, anyway -- "take Riza Hawkeye, as your wife, bound to her in eternal matrimony?"

There are moments in a lifetime that one remembers vividly; a moment that is irreparably seared into memory. This was one such moment.

Ed would remember later that the lights were reflecting off the tile in _just that way_, and that a slight breeze had come in through the double doors of the cathedral. Hawkeye's veil fluttered a little, and there was these strands of blonde hair that were dancing in the very front of his eyes, making him tear up.

Oh yeah, hair's fault that he was tearing up. Yes. Definitely.

He would remember how the microphone echoed almost silently for a second, before Roy's words dropped from his lips in a tone that defined finality.

"I do."

Ed let out a breath that he didn't realize he had been holding, and he hoped fervently that he didn't look _too_ depressed. He lifted his hands up and held the cord to his chest, trying to stop himself from breaking down right then and there.

"If anyone has objections to this union," the minister's voice rang out loud and clear through the cathedral, "Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

Ed found out that he didn't have the slightest inclination to do so, no matter how hard he coaxed his heart to. His voice had died in his throat, and he numbly looked up, purely as show. Al stared worriedly at him as they locked eye contact, and Ed looked away with a slight shake of the head.

Everything seemed quite hazy...was Havoc looking...pained...?

He fought the urge to glare at the minister to _get on with it_, so that they can finish earlier and that he could go sooner and wallow in a pit of self-induced misery. Or whatever applies to him. Nobody in their right mind would object to this, any--

"I object."

Ed blinked. Once. Twice. Looked around the church, confused as everybody else was, as to who had spoken.

It was a female voice. Probably one of Roy's earlier girlfriends or something. His hands itched to be put together and teach this girl -- woman -- what_ever_ a lesson in _not_ interrupting military-weddings-of-the-century. He continued sweeping a careful eye over the crowd, and passed over a very confused Central staff, over a petrified Al, over...

Al?

"With all due respect, Colonel Mustang, and you _do_ know I have very little of that, I do believe that this is _the_ one time that you should not put your military duties over your own personal happiness."

Ed stared.

And stared some more.

Winry's eyes flashed once in his direction, before turning back in a fierce gaze to the pair standing in front of the altar.

A complete hush fell over the cathedral for a good fifteen seconds. Ed immediately strode over next to Winry with every intention of rectifying the situation -- dammit, she didn't _need_ to stop the wedding for him ...

"What are you insinuating, Miss Rockbell?" Roy turned towards them with a dangerous edge to his voice; Ed recognized it as the tone of voice the Colonel used to intimidate...and a tone of voice that always worked, without fail.

Apparently, Winry was an exception to that, seeing that she stood her ground and even stepped up, chain of coins jingling ominously. "Just because I'm a civilian doesn't mean that I'm stupid, Colonel."

An unreadable expression flashed once again across the Flame's face, and his eyes narrowed. "You are out of line, Miss -- "

"Don't you dare throw formalities at me, Mustang," Winry growled. "You damn well _know_ what I'm -- "

Ed seized her arm, afraid of what she might say next, afraid of the consequences it might set into motion. "Winry, please --"

The blonde cut him off with a glare that promised excruciating pain if _he_ didn't shut his mouth. "Ed, we..._you_ can't let him do this!" she hissed, gesturing empathically with outstretched palms.

As much as Ed would've liked to agree with the temperamental Rockbell, he couldn't. Shouldn't. "Winry," he said gently, whispering in her ear, ignoring the camera flashes behind him and the stunned silence of the churchgoers, "No. This is Roy's happiness, not mine. Let him be."

Sapphire eyes widened. "But Ed--"

"You won't understand, Winry, not until you've walked in our footsteps," that was Roy again. Hawkeye was frantically trying to stop him from snapping his fingers right then and there, and her auburn eyes flashed with conflicting emotions. The honor guard stood ready to break up any violence, if need be.

"Oh?" Winry shoved Ed off and forcefully pushed him to the side, having noticed the particular gesture. "Must be deja vu, Mustang? Rockbell, snapping, _fire_, ring a bell?"

Al had stood up, hestating because of Winry's implicit instructions to stay put and leave her alone to deal with this.

Roy looked stricken for a moment, before smoothly recovering his disposition. He looked past Winry, avoided Ed's eye, and tilted his head slightly in a motion to the honor guard. Ed whirled around and immediately moved to shield the mechanic from the uniformed ranks.

"Are you _so_ desperate?" Winry said mockingly in a voice that sent shivers down Ed's spine, and he had a fleeting moment of horror -- what if this was Envy? And then he remembered that Envy had been sacrificed to the Gate -- before she spoke again. "I merely objected to a _wedding_--it's perfectly legal to do so, isn't it, Colonel?"

Ed looked over his shoulder to look at the older alchemist's reaction, but his face could've been a porcelain mask with the expression held so firmly in its place. He placed a hand on Hawkeye's shoulder and Ed fought the urge to flinch. "Miss Rockbell..._Winry_...I'll repeat this one more time -- Do _not_ judge our actions just because--"

"That doesn't --"

"_Stop_."

Ed blinked again.

Until he realized that it was _his_ voice that had echoed off the walls, in a loud, clear, and desperate plea.

He swallowed, bringing down his hands and turning around to stand beside Winry. "Winry...just let them be."

And with that, he walked back across the aisle, a slight tilt of the head in apology to a stunned Roy and Riza, hands firmly around the cord, coming to a stop in his former place, across the blonde mechanic.

He bit his lip and waited for the ceremony to resume.

"Ed..." Winry was saying softly, clearly at a loss for words. "Let them be? Let the world see something that really isn't true?"

He started to nod, but before he was halfway done the blonde's words had caught up with his mind. He snapped his head up as he figured out what she was implying, which was exactly...he didn't know. What? "What?"

Roy looked over his shoulder in the tiniest of glances.

Ed stared at Winry, however, attention wholly fixated on what she had just said. "What?" he repeated, thoroughly bewildered.

Sapphire eyes appeared confused. "Um, Ed," she stammered, previous rage gone and replaced by a mix of hilarity and fright. "You know," she hesitated, and her gaze darted to Hawkeye and Roy. "_That_."

"What _that?_" If there ever was a wrong time for charades, this would be that one time.

Winry's eyes widened comically, and she directed a terrified look at him, and then past him at Al. He whirled around just in time to see his brother blanch a very unnatural shade of pale.

Al turned to glare at Breda, who had a sheer layer of sweat sparkling on his forehead. "I thought I _told you to --_"

Breda gulped, and put his hands up in defense. "I told Fuery to--"

The bespectacled Sergeant shook his head frantically, and pointed to Falman. "He said he'd be the one to--"

"I told Major Armstrong to do it."

"Ah, but an Armstrong is not fit for such deliverance of news! I put Broche in control--"

"Passed it on to Lieutenant Ross, sir--"

"I told Havoc to--"

"Told Scheska to pass it on, boss--"

And so started a massive chain of finger-pointing and the volume of the din in the church rose into deafening heights; cameras started flashing and everyone started whispering and pointing at everyone else. Ed watched, stunned, trying to make head or tail of the current situation.

"...passed it on to the Steelweaving Alchemist, sir!" A voice piped up, hushing the chaos almost immediately.

A snort.

"Private. Steelweaving had died five years ago."

"Oh. I passed it to _him_ then!" Somebody pointed a finger to somebody else, and the noise began again.

Ed bit his lip and turned to face the almost-wed couple, and felt his heart shatter. Again. Dammit. By this time, there'd be enough shards to create a wonderfully complicated mosaic of an alchemic array. Of the Philosopher's Stone, perhaps. Anyway.

Hawkeye had her head buried in Roy's chest, and the Flame Alchemist had taken one of his gloves off and had taken to rubbing comforting circles into her back. Camera flashes again. Well. The older alchemist had his eyes closed and face upturned, looking worse for the wear...

Winry looked stricken and she had slowly started to step back.

Al had started shouting.

Everyone was...well...somewhere in the mess that remained of what _was_ supposed to be the Flame's wedding. Ed, still rather stunned by the turn of events, briskly walked over to where Al was bordering on the edge of hysterical.

His younger brother looked like a deer caught in headlights. Of a sixteen-wheeler truck.

"Al." He said in a miraculously even and very calm voice. "What were you supposed to tell me?"

"Brother..." Grey eyes looked down. "You really don't know? I...I thought you did. I thought that was why you were acting...well...you know...so...this means...everything...everything you had been doing..."

"...they were real?"

Winry sounded heartbroken, standing there behind him, a curled hand to her chest and head bowed. The din suddenly died down, starting from the front, spreading to the back.

Why?

Ed couldn't find his voice.

He looked around, only to see surprise and...what?

"Of course, Win," he managed to croak out, feeling as if he had been spun in a dryer on high speed. "Of course everything was real. Of _course_ all those maddening feelings were _**real**_Winry!"

He whirled around to face an equally flabbergasted Hawkeye and a bewildered Flame Alchemist.

"Ed..." Hawkeye started, gathering her skirts and reaching out towards him, "You honestly didn't...? Edward, this...we planned..."

Something in him snapped.

They actually _planned_ this?

Oh God. Never mind that he's an atheist.

"Ed..."

Al never referred to him by name, unless it was because of something that demanded his utmost attention. And judging by the current state of things, Ed was almost afraid to face his younger brother. "Alphonse?"

The younger alchemist tugged on his sleeve, voice a whisper that drifted throughout the cathedral. "Ed, this wedding is only for show..."

For the Fullmetal Alchemist, time seemed to slow down and come to a complete stop.

---

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Thanks. Cheerio!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **This chapter just _refused_ to be written. Dammit. I had to go through only-heaven-knows-how-many fics to get it going. And then I went through this paternal!Roy phase that just wouldn't go away. And now I feel like my brain just blanked out. And now...I'll shut up already.

**Disclaimer: **D'you really think CoS would have ended like that if I owned the franchise?

**Notes: Shounen-ai** warning. Filter off, again; un-beta'ed (but I've read it over. Shouldn't be too serious, right?) References to the anime series. Post-CoS, so spoilers are scattered throughout. Also, you'll know why this is categorized under angst, yes?

**Summary: **Because life is like that, and you can't do anything about it. Alternate Ending, post-series, post-CoS. Shounen-ai -- Ed/Roy, Al/Winry, slight Royai.

**moonbeams III**

_Self-realization. I was thinking of the immortal words of Socrates, when he said, "I drank what?"_

_-_Chris Knight, _Real Genius_

Remember the times when you'd deal with some crazy power-hungry priest who's intent over taking over the entire free state? You'd come to the rescue just because you're driven by _this one purpose_ that you've wholly believed was true, only to find out, at that shining moment when everything's done and over with, that that purpose was fake?

No?

Well, Ed was currently doing so, as adrenalin shot through his veins at mind-numbing speed. As the words dropped from Al's lips, he froze in his tracks and stared. Stunned relief, at that very first instant, before quickly swirling into anger. Which, unsurprisingly, turned into a hurt feeling that was a thousand times worse than rage.

"So," he paused, at a loss of words, trying very, _very_ hard not to clap and transmute the nearest thing he could get his hands on, "You're saying that...that..." he let out a hysterical giggle, "I spent _hours_ in...in...this damned _itchy_ uniform, suffered through a _month_ of wedding rehearsals, and _endured_ all those moronic camera _flashes for __**nothing**_"

He couldn't help it, his voice rose with every syllable and loudened until it was a crashing cry that echoed off the cathedral walls.

"Fullmetal," that was Roy, "I think you're overreact--"

That thin thread of self-control, so ragged and had been holding faithfully for so long, snapped.

Ed snapped his head up, abandoning wedding tradition and chucking the braided golden cord back into the pews. "That's _it_, Mustang. I'm always overreacting, aren't I? That's the way you always see it. You only see the irresponsible short kid who only destroys towns and bothers you with the expenses, raiding the military's deep pockets for his own selfish reasons!" Ed knew he was ranting by now, judging by that familiar smirk slowly sliding into place on that face he had been dreaming of so often, but he had had enough.

Enough of this.

He had pined after something, someone who never really gave a damn about how he had felt. Never even bothered checking if he goddamned _knew_ about how this was just a stupid show, probably to cover something up, and--

Ed felt like throwing up.

His voice broke and he hated it, scrubbing hastily at the edges of his eyes. "Well, _newsflash_, Colonel! If you could --- if you -- " he whispered, more to himself than to the Flame, "Just give me this one time, Flame Alchemist. I may be overreacting, but my actions are justified, so please..."

He flicked his gaze upwards, and there was this tiny flash of something unreadable before the smirk had fallen fully into place, and Roy turned his back on him.

Turned.

His.

Back.

"All right, Fullmetal Alchemist."

Ed's breath hitched at that note of finality in his voice, that tone that said that he just didn't care. The show (and Ed laughed inwardly) had to go on. Even if it was breaking his heart so many times it wasn't even funny.

And behind them, the crowd broke out into tiny little whispers all over.

Damn_it_.

He restrained (he had to do a lot of that lately) the urge to make the whole congregation's ears bleed from his very colorful vocabulary, and opted, instead, to make do with what he had from the situation. Which wasn't a whole lot to begin with.

"All right, Colonel," he echoed hollowly, trying to erase the dejected expression he knew he had on his face. Frightened of this something that was so important that Roy was willing to throw away his life to cover up. "So that's it, huh?" he bit his lip. "What the _hell_ is so important anyway that you're willing to endure something that's not real for your whole---"

Another fleeting moment of horror as something crossed his mind -- he stared at the pair, in front of the altar, waiting to be wed.

And everything fell into place.

Riza.

Riza was...pregnant.

And Roy was marrying her in order not to look suspicious.

Oh God no.

Clapping a hand to his mouth at this sudden realization, he scrabbled around wildly, cold sweat trickling down his back.

"Brother?"

He shot a frightened look at the younger alchemist and Al's eyes widened in surprise. Ed swung his gaze back at the pair, Hawkeye eyeing him curiously, Roy indifferent and even looking rather impatient. As if he didn't have time for this.

He never did.

"I--I--" he gulped for air like a dying fish, and motioned as if reaching out for the elder alchemist, "It's been fun, Roy, Riza," he choked out, trying not to look like his throat had suddenly run dry. "But I don't think I can be your best man anymore."

"What is it _now_, Fullmetal?" Roy said exasperatedly, tugging conspiciously at his gloves. "This wedding has been postponed en--"

He only gave him a pained smile in response, one that made the Colonel stop dead in his tracks. One that Ed had poured every emotion into, more than just a quick flash of teeth and a quirk of the lips, more than any other grin he'd have done, one that he made sure the Flame Alchemist would never forget his entire life.

"I'm sorry."

And with that, amongst the stunned silence that followed, Edward Elric ran out of the cathedral and out of sight, hand to his mouth and heart in shattered pieces.

---

There had been a ten-second moment of silence after the elder Elric had fled, during which Al could be described as nothing but a bunch of frazzled, frustrated nerves.

And then there was the ominous screech, that high-pitched shriek.

Alphonse didn't immediately place what it was, not until Roy and Riza tore past them with a speed quite unnatural for somebody of their age, the Lieutenant abandoning all etiquette and kicking her high-heeled shoes off.

Car brakes.

No.

His mouth ran dry.

Please, no.

_Nii-san, no!_

---

He never heard the desperate cry from within the stained-glass buliding.

"Fullmetal! _Edward! Ed!!!_"

Because Edward Elric was never really the sort of person who looked back.

---

Roy watched, horrified, as he sprinted out into the steps just in time to catch the sight of Ed's lithe figure curving a graceful arc in the air, before he hit the ground with a _thump_ that could've been as loud as an atomic explosion, for all he cared.

Alphonse skidded to a stop next to him, watching silently as the scene unfolded before their very eyes. The expression on the younger Elric's face was something he would never like to see on another human being ever again. Pain, concern, worry -- all etched into a terrified facade.

The driver had already gotten out and was shouting something, and a crowd had started to gather, obscuring their view. He vaguely noted that they sounded quite hysterical.

Al pushed past him and they followed, pushing through the spectators, blood rushing through his veins. Roy shut his eyes tight, fervently praying for the best, that the boy was okay, because he didn't think Alphonse would be able to stand it if--

"He's gone."

His eyes snapped open in total disbelief. "What?"

For some strange reason, Al had broken into dry giggles. "He's gone, Colonel."

And his eyes fell upon the middle of the crowd, where there only was an empty square of cobbled street and a few streaks of fresh blood.

---

Pain.

Pain everywhere.

Pain in his left side, pain in his shoulder, white-hot intensity as his automail shoulder hung as a deadweight.

But nothing compared to that clenching feeling, suffocating him, threatening to make him bleed so much more; busted automail, he could deal with -- he already did, innumerable times --, a broken heart, he could not.

---

Roy blinked, listening as Al's giggles turned into hysterical ones, as the crowd murmured, as the press pushed their way into the noisy din and started taking pictures anew.

"Well then, Colonel," the younger Elric managed to say, slightly breathless, "Next time, don't pull a stunt like this. Doesn't work on Nii-san, anyway."

Then there was Riza at his side, flushed and panting, wincing as she shifted her weight on blistered feet. "Where's Ed? I---brakes...I heard..."

"He's gone," he repeated, still staring at the empty patch of ground. What?

The driver was wringing his hands desperately as the honor guard converged on him -- not to mention a few angry townspeople for mowing down the Hero of the People -- and started interrogating right then and there. Churchgoers had already poured out of the cathedral, and if there ever was a human roadblock, this had to be it.

A smug voice floated from somewhere behind him. "Time for some damage control, Mustang."

"Miss Rockbell," he acknowledged absently, unseeing as the crowd pressed against them on all sides. "Um. Well." He raised his head and held out fingers in a motion he knew so well, making a hush fall from the front all the way to the stragglers at the very back. "Settle down, people."

It was effective enough to make the spectators give him a ten-foot berth as he walked forward, towards the driver.

As Roy approached the driver --a middle-aged man, no more that forty-- the honor guard seemed to shrink back, terrified of the Flame Alchemist. The man froze and slowly looked over his shoulder.

And then he burst into tears.

"C-c-colonel!" he cried, taking a step back. "I-I'm sorry! It was an accident, I swear, I really didn't--"

"I know," Roy cut him off mechanically, the crowd-control instincts kicking in. The press would have a field day with this sort of fodder. "Honor guard, let the man go. Elric wasn't looking where he was going."

He sighed, head starting to ache at the amount of paperwork he would end up after this. "Breda, Fuery, Armstrong --- crowd dispersal. Alphonse," the younger alchemist started at the mention of his name, still in the process of wiping tears from his eyes, "The media," he gestured. Al had a certain aura of diplomacy around him, the complete opposite of his older brother's, so naturally he'd be Central's best bet. After Hughes, of course.

If Maes was here right now...

Anyway.

"Flame Alchemist! Flame Alchemist! Colonel! Does this mean the wedding's over?"

"What did Major Elric mean about a cover-up?"

"Will Central have a press release?"

"What does the Parliament say about this?"

"Why did you--"

Shit. Roy wanted nothing more than to incinerate a few...persistent people, but that would tarnish his reputation irrevocably. He hoped he didn't look to stressed as he felt. Two years of careful preparation, down the metaphorical drain.

"Looks like you're in for a long, lovely stack of paperwork, Sir," Riza quipped beside him, sounding slightly relieved and cheerful at the same time.

"Don't remind me," he replied dryly.

"Uh, well, Lieutenant," they both looked over their shoulders. "I think...these belong to you." Havoc held up a pair of rather battered-looking two-inch-heeled white shoes, a sheepish look on his face.

Riza winced, lifting her skirts and peering at her scratched, raw feet. "Ugh."

"Um, if you don't mind," the auburn-eyed officer squeaked admirably as Havoc stepped forward and swept her into his arms, bridal style (and Roy thought it was such an irony), "It'd be better if you didn't walk on those feet for a while. Chief," he nodded slightly to Roy, before quickly heading off in the general direction of the church.

As he watched, she struggled for a bit before finally letting herself relax, military stiffness melting away as she lifted gloved hands and twined them around the Captain's neck.

He smiled wistfully, the sight of that small, genuine smile on both his subordinates' faces enough to lift his spirits up.

Which was immediately pulled back down by the sheer force of something metallic and very hard colliding with the back of his head.

"Do I _have_ to knock some sense into you, Roy Mustang!?" Winry screeched, an impressive feat for somebody who looked so patient, and who was around Alphonse Elric so much that at least some of the younger alchemist's peacefull disposition should've rubbed off her, "I thought I _told_ you to do some damage control!"

Roy picked up the wrench that shone dully in the sun, and held it out to the blonde mechanic. "I did."

She suddenly bore an impressive resemblance to a raging bull. "Damage. _Control," _she breathed in a dangerous voice, snatching the wrench and throwing her arm back.

Behind her, Alphonse shot him a smile so smug that it ought to be illegal.

And then it hit him.

Not literally, of course, as he managed to dodge the wrench as it flew into the air -- he was very thankful for that. It hit him in a subtle, bone-chilling way, the kind that makes one's stomach do backflips and makes one's mind go 'You're on your own buddy, because you're screwed, big-time.'.

Without another thought, he started to run in the direction Ed had gone.

---

The winter solstice is the time of the year when the night creeps in far more earlier than usual; even at only around four, five in the afternoon, the skies darken in twilight. At six, night falls, covering everything in a blanket of darkness dotted with stars.

Which is about the time Roy had been spending in finding -- trying to find -- the Fullmetal Alchemist.

He had ran across all the main streets of Amestris, checked every single place where he remembered the golden-haired boy liked to stay, and asked what he thought was every citizen he had come across. At around five-thirty, he had returned to Central Headquarters, becoming rather worried and anxious. He called together his staff, met in the infirmary (where Riza was nursing a pair of very sore feet) and proceeded to deduce where the hell Ed had gone.

Everything they came up with was shot down by the fact that Roy _had already looked there_.

Then he was assaulted once more by flying wrenches, courtesy of one now somewhat gratified Winry Rockbell, accompanied by one Alphonse Elric, looking as if his older brother had not gone missing.

And then the younger alchemist stared at him, then steel-grey eyes cleared with sudden realization.

"Colonel," Al had burst into relieved laughter, "I know of one place where you haven't looked."

Roy had protested, very much so, because he had known that it was the one sanctuary that had been private to the brothers. It was the sole oasis where they fought and made peace. He didn't think Ed would've given him the same distinction as Alphonse, his own flesh and blood.

But as the younger Elric had declared, smiling up at him with that small, wistful smile that he had remembered was eternally on Trisha Elric's face, he knew that his older brother had put him and Roy on a different pedestal altogether.

And this was now where Roy currently was, with the night breeze picking up, making the makeshift cape of his military uniform dance in the wind. The moon shone bright high above, reflected in the still waters of the lake below.

He couldn't help but smile as he saw a very familiar silhouette: hunched shoulders, flapping ponytail, arms wound tightly around himself in a way very reminiscent of a small, frightened child.

He couldn't help it as his smile faded away very quickly.

He took a step forward.

"Go away."

Ed's whisper rang clear in the night, more effective than any other scream or yell.

Roy moved closer to him, staring at the blue that was the back of his uniform. "Ed, I--"

"Go away," another staunch plea greeted him, as Ed hunched over even more, voice weakening into something Roy couldn't place. "Please."

He started at that tone of voice. The only time he had ever heard Ed use it was --- never. It was a mix of resigned sadness and desperation. Despair. Everything that the Fullmetal Alchemist never showed willingly. Oh wait. He had heard it before --- only this morning.

He frowned as something clenched in the left area of his chest.

Roy bit his lip, and went for his usual approach to things, which almost always involved Ed flying into a blind rage and making his ears bleed. He only did it because Ed looked quite adorable when he got mad, and it almost always wiped off that irritatingly determined I-_will_-get-my-brother's-body-back-even-if-it-kills-me (because we can't have that, can we?) expression on his face. "Pipsqueak, you have to understand..."

"I can't," he said brokenly, sounding like a raw growl of rough cloth whispering over jagged shards of glass. "I can't understand anything. Because I've always been a pipsqueak to you, right? A naive pipsqueak who's nothing more than a child, a boy with no childhood to everyone else. Please leave me alone."

Roy's breath hitched as he realized how much this had hurt the younger alchemist. Not only had Ed not retaliated to the jab at his height, he had completely turned Roy's perception of him upside down. It was much, much easier when Ed was screaming, cursing, insulting him in the loudest possible way, rather than this quiet exchange of heartbroken words and shattered feelings. Much easier when it was Fullmetal -- brash, showy, cheerfully brutal, rather than when it was Ed, who was the boy who lost everything and would've given anything to get it back.

He tried again, but took a different approach. "You see, this is why people see you as a child, Edward. You go and drown yourself in self-pity for things that you had no part to play in, and then you deny accountability when asked of something important. Like understanding, for example."

He waited with bated breath, surely this would get the Fullmetal Alchemist angry...

"I know," he said simply, and the sound of quiet sobbing filled his ears, making his heart clench.

"Hey--" he muttered intelligently, at a loss of anything else to say. Roy paused as he took into account the events that had started this ball rolling over a very steep hill, resulting in more than one broken heart and a lot of broken trust. He cursed himself for not being able to see it coming, for not even realizing how Ed felt, for not even checking if he was all right with this...

Roy thought he knew. And he had admired Ed for keeping cool. But then he realized, if the boy didn't know...then all those reluctant smiles and those cheery 'good-lucks' and that one night, last night, when the sadness was radiating off the boy in _waves_ and that he had drunk so much...

If he had only _asked_. If he had only _seen_ it. It would have saved Central a whole lot of trouble.

He silently sat on the right side of the blonde alchemist, luxuriously stretching out his legs before him and welcoming the cool brush of dewdrops soaking through the coarse fabric.

That smile on his face, and those two words that echoed after. Ed never apologized for anything...

They sat there in silence for a good five minutes, each reflecting on what the other had done.

"Just...bastard..." Ed's voice was rather shaky, muffled by the cloth of his sleeves, "Confirm what I think...what...what was so important that you were willing to give up your life to cover up?"

Golden eyes shone in the darkness as he lifted his head up from his arms with a wince, strands of blonde sticking to his cheeks, dried tear tracks visible in the pale moonlight.

Roy shot him a wistful smile, and Ed started, looking rather surprised.

"I'm a fool, Ed," he decided that he liked the way the younger alchemist's name sounded in dropping from his lips, "Two years ago, I had this obsession with a particular officer. Never thought in a million years that such a relationship would work. But then media had its way and suddenly the phrase military fraternization was becoming quite overused..."

Ed made a small humming sound, and discreetly touched fingers to his left shoulder with gingerly-applied pressure. "There's no Fuhrer anymore, Colonel. What are you aiming for?"

Roy peered over around him. "The Parliament."

"Ambition is a cruel thing," the boy replied, turning away and fullly facing in the other direction, wince sounding particularly pained.

"Works for me," he countered in a light tone of voice, pressing his lips together and trying to see what Fullmetal's exact condition was. After all, when one is hit by a car, you couldn't expect not to have any sort of injury. And surely he did not imagine those bloodstreaks on the cobblestones. "Fullmetal, let me see your arm."

There was a whispered curse and something else that froze in the night chill, but before Roy could work it out, Ed shifted positions and sat cross-legged instead. "So there goes the press, hounding you for something you didn't want to be made public." He sighed almost silently, grip of his right hand tightening on his left shoulder. "I understand."

He blinked, abandoning all attempts to check the boy for serious injury (God knows what he had endured, anyway). What? Was it just him, or did the younger alchemist actually figure out the real reason behind this? Roy eyed Edward carefully, for a few minutes. And he decided Ed wouldn't be acting like this if he actually knew. Heck, they might be even having this conversation if he knew.

Might.

"You...and Riza..." Ed was mirroring his wistful expression earlier, Roy could feel it, "Would've made quite a pair of parents, you know."

"How should I know?" he felt his words choke in his throat, as the Fullmetal Alchemist's voice broke again, "I -- "

"Military fraternization and everything else," he continued bitterly. "I understand that part very well." Roy shot him a curious look, and golden, hawk-like eyes stared stonily back for a moment before looking back down. "Don't give me that, bastard. I seem to remember telling you that I've grown up more than you'll ever know."

He opened his mouth to reply when Ed's wistful statement earlier made him stop in his mental tracks. _Parents_.

Oh.

_Ohhhh_.

"Edward...you don't really think I've gotten Riza pregnant, do you?"

The boy froze. "What?"

He had to laugh at the way Ed's head snapped up so fast. "There haven't been any encounters of _that_ kind between us, I'm certain of that."

Ed's voice sounded small and very quiet. "Then...why?"

Roy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping fervently that the younger alchemist would forgive him for what he was about to confess. "Military fraternization with a subordinate female officer, Fullmetal, doesn't sound nearly as bad as military fraternization with a subordinate male officer. Who was ten years younger than me. At least, back then..."

Beside him, Ed was eerily reminiscent of a choking goldfish.

"The rumors had spread too far to dispel the notion that, in fact, the Flame Alchemist was after somebody in his office. I had to take drastic measures. My position in Central was too precarious to be jeopardized. And besides...it didn't help that the one person that I actually wished was there had gone missing for two whole years..."

Ed started spluttering and wincing alternately in a very amusing fashion.

"I had 'proposed' in a very public place over a year ago, while the junta was still in place, just so the media would shut up. But then Parliament took over and took to the lighter side of things. And then a year later, _somebody_ turns up and throws a wrench into my plans..."

"B-but..."

Roy looked sideways at him, peering out of one good eye. "I didn't really think that after those two years, you'd still remember me, Fullmetal. Even if I only saw your face, that one single grin, I'd be happy and contented. Because, I think, going back on a marriage proposal is something that's strongly advised against in this society."

"So you're marrying Riza because you wanted to cover up the fact that--"

"Yes," he looked away. "I loved you, Ed. Still do, in fact," he added almost as an afterthought, because it had been a fact of life that Colonel Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, had been pining after a certain whirlwind of red, black and gold for years.

And then something hard and fast collided with his jaw with enough force to knock him back slightly.

"_Bastard_."

Beside him Ed was breathing very hard, and Roy wondered whether he was channeling Winry or Izumi. Or a frightening combination of both. Oh well. He probably deserved it.

"That was for making me wear a uniform that was itchy as hell," the boy said matter-of-factly, golden eyes glowing in the moonlight. "Just thought you should know."

He looked sideways once more at the elder Elric, bewildered. And then he laughed. No. Giggled. Like a girl who had just taken a lover. (Um, excuse me. Edward was _so_ being the girl in this relationship.)

It felt great.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he realized Ed was staring at him quite intently, regarding him with a gaze that could've been direct sunlight in their intensity. "But no, really, Mustang," he said quietly, tearing away his gaze from his own and his lips thinning, "Seriously. Because the last two years of hell had been my price I had to pay to the Gate, and I really need to know whether this is part of it too."

On the last part, his voice broke.

Roy knew this was Ed, in a very subtle way, was asserting himself that no, the world didn't blame him for everything. That yes, he did deserve some kind of happiness in life.

He shifted closer to the younger alchemist, reaching over and taking his flesh hand from his left shoulder, cringing at the grimace of pain that flashed across the handsome face. Through the coarse white fabric of his gloves, and through the soft flannel of Ed's, he could feel a mutual warmth.

"I love you."

Ed shifted and giggled rather hyperly. The words dropped from his own lips in a way telling him that they were long overdue. It had been waiting to be said for a long, long time.

"I love you too."

It sounded very much like an oath and a promise. Roy decided that he liked it that way.

Ed snorted, a cross between a strangled groan and a sigh, bringing up their hands to his eyes and wiping at the edges. "Dammit, Roy. I'm not crying, okay? There's...there's just something in my eye, yeah," he denied in a vehement whisper, interspersed with giggles.

Roy smiled bemusedly, shifting even closer and coaxing the temperamental alchemist to do the same, hand never leaving the younger's.

"Of course, Ed. Just something in your eye."

---

You know how they tell you that real love doesn't have an ending?

Roy had snorted at it more than once, when life was working his way up the ranks, flirting the miniskirts off the general populace of Amestris, coming home to a nice, warm, shot of scotch and probably a good novel.

That was then.

Now, he truly believed in it, and stood by it, even after being laughed at four consecutive times by one Jean Havoc, even after being chided by the Parliament, even after being questioned by Alphonse Elric one too many times.

Because on that moonbeam-filled night, as Edward Elric conceded and laughed brokenly, vehemently denying that those were tears falling down pale cheeks, he noticed something was amiss. Something was out of place.

Something was _wrong_.

For when the car had hit the Fullmetal Alchemist dead-on, it had crushed his automail arm into his side, crushing into skin and muscle and tissue and bone with enough force to start massive internal bleeding.

Because when his golden-eyed lover rested his forehead in the crook of the Flame Alchemist's neck, when tanned skin came in contact with pale flesh, it was ice-cold.

And that single ribbon of blood spilled from the boy's lips.

Followed by another.

And another.

Until the trickle became a stream, and crimson spilled over into regulation blue.

---

Adrenalin, the doctors said. It was adrenalin that kept Edward conscious, that kept him running. That kept him talking, that kept him from shutting down completely, that kept him lucid and that kept him _breathing_.

The adrenalin of dealing with him, of running away, of a heart broken -- it had kept him alive, because there was always a fierce, raging energy that Ed utilized whenever he was emotionally charged.

And when he -- _they _-- had confessed to each other, the boy had relaxed, let blood flow once again to clenched hands, enough for reality to rear its ugly head and laugh in their faces.

He would remember how he had cradled the weakened and bleeding alchemist in his arms. How he ran through the empty, darkened streets of Amestris, calling, shouting, pleading for help. How one by one the shuttered windows of the houses opened, and how warm light shone from each of them, how one cry led to another.

How the infirmary turned into a veritable madhouse within fifteen minutes of their arrival.

How the stares followed him as people, staff, coworkers saw him rush by with a very broken Hero of the People.

How Alphonse had screamed and begged on bended knee for the doctors to _please save my Nii-san oh God please don't let him die_ and had to be sedated to be calmed down.

How he and the younger Elric had stayed by the wheat(_crimson-matted!_)-haired boy's side as the head surgeon and his team feverishly worked to save his rapidly-fading life, how Winry Rockbell, tight-lipped and fiercely determined, quickly dismantled the automail arm and port, holding the appendage as some grisly sort of trophy.

How Fullmetal had murmured his brother's name with a small, knowing smile, not a wince nor a moan nor any other indication of the excruciating pain of automail surgery.

You see, there are those moments in a lifetime one remembers vivdly, as if seared into memory with a promise as true as a snap of the Flame Alchemist's gloved fingers.

How lithe fingers had squeezed the one hand that had never left his, that one brief touch of white cloth and warm flesh underneath. How Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People, whimpered once, curling up slightly into his side in pain.

And how Ed never opened his eyes again.

Those kind of moments.

---

Contrary to popular belief, the driver had not been executed. Rather, he had been court-martialed accordingly and acquitted, with Roy himself backing the old man up. Had he been found guilty, the death penalty was waiting for him. Roy did not want anyone else remotely close to him dying. He had had enough of it, than you very much.

Alphonse had worked wonders for the military scandal that fueled Amestrinian housewives' gossip grapevines. The newly-reinstated state alchemist worked with renewed fervor, grey eyes hardening into steel as he retreated into that brooding shell that the elder Elric had made known before. The fact that his chase after Ed involved almost every citizen he had passed helped very much. His staff had come up with the most convincing story to ever grace the front pages of the Central Times.

That the Flame Alchemist had staged this very elaborate scheme in order to get the Fullmetal Alchemist to notice him. It was fairly out-of-character, he had tried to argue, for both him and Edward, but what was important was the fact that the public ate it up with no complaints whatsoever, demanding more and even more.

'Flame and Fullmetal', black-and-white words leering at him, springing from the pages of every single newspaper in Amestris, accompanied by an unsolicited photograph of a blurred something in the foreground of a few houses, which he presumed was supposed to be himself. Dammit. If they had to take a picture they should've gotten at least a clear shot.

On second thought. No. It was better that it was blurred, because then the broken state that the 'Hero' was in would pretty much shoot down any respectable image that Amestris held dear to its collective heart.

And Roy was sure Ed wouldn't have liked that.

Alphonse would say the same thing later, at his Nii-san's funeral.

There was a slow, somber procession from Central Headquarters in the late afternoon, a week after the winter solstice. It had been one of the most attented in the history of Amestris, for this was the death of one dog of the military that the people actually cared about because the blonde alchemist had actually cared about _them_. Ed was all energetic smiles and blue alchemy, and to them, he was their savior, their benefactor, and more importantly, their friend. If there had been a time when the Hero of the People shone, this was the time the People of the Hero paid tribute.

Even the footmen, bearing that small, delicate casket draped over with the Amestrinian flag, were hard-pressed not to tear up. The Parliament, looming like the enigmatic figures that an annoyed Ed made them out to be. Then the staff, all wearing grey-black and in full military regalia, heads bowed and shaking fingers around ceremonial weapons.

And then, right behind the casket, walked Alphonse Elric, an unreadable expression on his face, Winry crying into his shoulder unabashedly. One had lost a best friend; the other had lost that and so much more. Pillar of strength. Confidant. Adviser.

Brother.

The ceremony was a pompous one, filled with empty words and even emptier speeches. All the press wanted was Roy's own eulogy, looking for fresh fodder as they were. And he did. Gave them the most heartfelt words he had ever uttered in his life, spoken in a tightly controlled voice in every semblance of the Flame Alchemist.

Ed would've killed him if he had been alive. No, maim him first, then throw up, then kill him.

Problem was, he wasn't.

"Well, Colonel," there was that thoughtful ghost of a smile, and the younger Elric shifted the trademark bloodred coat around his shoulders, having adamantly refused to wear the black dress uniform, "Nii-san wouldn't have liked that. Too many people. He was always that private sort of person."

"What do you expect? He's the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Al shrugged. "He's my Nii-san," he stated in a very final way.

Onyx eye blinked. "Alphonse...are you...?" he trailed off, knowing that the unspoken question will not go unheard.

Chestnut ponytail danced in the evening breeze and lifted the edges of his own trenchcoat. "Don't worry. At the very least, I'm happy. Nii-san went knowing he was loved. Very much so."

He ignored the tears gathering once more at the edge of the boy's soft-grey eyes as Al straightened up, clapping his hands lightly in a chalkless array. Blue star-shaped flowers with glowing white centers pushed through the bladed grass, looking vaguely like fireflies were fluttering amongst the petals.

Red overcoat flapped once more as the younger Elric turned to leave, in the general direction of a particularly majestic tree under which the younger Rockbell was waiting patiently.

"Did you know what he always said, Colonel Mustang?" Al suddenly said vaguely, and Roy looked over his shoulder, marvelling at how the boy looked oddly wise beyond his armor-trapped years with that look in his eyes, "Don't look back."

And then with a spin of the heels and a whisper of grass, he was alone with his thoughts for the first time.

There would be a time later for recollections and fond memories and whatnot, but for now, it was the time to just be and let the fact that the boy -- now a man (for Ed would surely be rather pissed off, '_I'm eighteen, dammit!_') that he had loved for so many years was now lying in a grave six feet under a pair of polished shoes, white marble and firefly grass.

(And for some ironic reason, a rank higher than him. Brigadier General. Damn. Maes would have had a field day.)

Alphonse would be okay, that he knew, because his Rockbell was there for him from _his_ very start, making sure he recovered his memories of his brother.

Roy would be okay, sometime in the future. That he knew with certainty.

Just...

...not now.

He had lost everything in his life that had made it...well..his _life_.

Somehow he exactly knew how Alphonse felt.

And in front of Ed's grave, right before that impressive slice of marble, Roy Mustang finally broke down and cried, the half moon high above shining down and crying tears the color of moonbeams with him.

**Owari**

Ummm...Honestly? That was a very depressing thing to write. But hey. Fanfiction.

Drop me a line, 'k? Flames are all right. There's a multi-chaptered fanfic in the works.


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